Monthly Archives: December 2015

Will and Hannibal will spend the holidays writing snarky but untracable Christmas cards to Freddie and Jack. Will will wear PJ pants and Hannibal’s red V-neck, and Hannibal will wear a red plaid suit. After this, they will shower together with a loofah. The following describes one such shower:

“What the fuck is this?” Will holds up the fluffy pink object, making a face radiating concern and confusion.

“I believe it’s known as a bath pouf.” Hannibal responds, unbuttoning his shirt.

“I’m not an idiot.” Will replies. “I just didn’t think you were the pink plastic pouf type.”

“I had to stock this house in a hurry.” Hannibal shrugs out of his shirt, tossing it into the hamper. “I would usually opt for a natural luffa, but the local stores were out of them.”

“And the pink?” Will tests the temperature of the shower room’s water.

“It was October.” A note of amusement in Hannibal’s voice as he steps out of his pants.

“Ah.” Will steps in, sighing contentedly as the hot water falls onto his face and tracks down his body. Hannibal watches in appreciation as the younger man turns to soak his hair and back. After a few long moments, Will steps back to the shower head further back. “Well?” He asks. “Are you joining me?”

Will reaches out and grabs Hannibal’s wrist. He hisses as Hannibal follows his lead, stepping in to press him back against the cold tile wall. For all that a lesser man might feel trapped, Will reacts as if he’s wanted nothing more than an armful of soggy cannibal. He wraps one arm around Hannibal’s waist and brings the other up his cheek, leaning forward to kiss him.

Hannibal can feel himself melt into the experience, the same way will did moments earlier with the warm water. Will’s lips against his own; Will’s skin against his own, the warmth of Wills body in contrast to the tile he braces his hand on–the sensations are intoxicating, the motions patient and languorous.

After a few ecstatic moments, Will pulls away, his thumb ghosting over Hannibal’s cheekbone. “There’s a limited supply of hot water. Let’s not waste it.”

“That’s unfortunate.” Hannibal steps back into the water, grabbing a bottle of shampoo. He squirts a dime-sized dollop into his hand, then gestures for Will to turn around. The younger man sighs contentedly as Hannibal massages the lather into this scalp.

“I think the opera’s starting to grow on me.” Will says after a moment, moving away to rinse himself as Hannibal turns his attentions to his own hair.

“I’m glad you found it enjoyable.” Hannibal says. “Elektra is one of my favorites.”

“I cheated a little.” Will admits, nuzzling at Hannibal’s neck as he reaches around for the conditioner. “I read the wikipedia article on it while you were dealing with the valet.”

“Immensely.” Will squirts a bit of shower gel onto the bath pouf. “Knowing what’s about to happen helps make up for not knowing German.”

“I suppose it might.” Hannibal works conditioner through his own hair. “As long as it was enjoyable.”

“Quite.” Will smiles, scrubbing his arms and chest with the pouf. “Theater is usually jarring. An actor can only convey so much emotion, and then ‘these lights are in my eyes’ and ‘what’s for dinner’ start to bleed through. But I found myself thoroughly entranced.”

“That speaks as much to the singers as the medium.” Hannibal says, taking the pouf as Will turns around to allow him to wash his back. “I am glad it brought you enjoyment, though if we go again, we must do something about that man two boxes over.”

“Who kept eating peanuts?” Will chuckles. “Seems a bit hypocritical to judge him for his dinner when you couldn’t stop thinking about your own. His name’s Paul Andrews, by the way. I got his card while you were in the restroom.”

“You spoil me, love.” Hannibal kisses the back of his neck.

“And in return, you spoil me; you spoil Winston, Encephalitis, Buster…” Will rinses the pouf and reapplies shower gel.

“It brings me joy to do so.” Hannibal turns around. “You are far too hesitant to indulge in luxuries for yourself. I shudder to imagine what you would consider pampering without my guidance.”

“Probably frozen pizza and a bottle of Jim Beam Black Label.” Will admits, working the lather over Hannibal’s shoulder blades and spine.

“Precisely.” Hannibal leans back as Will passes the pouf forward. “And yet, despite that limited sense of culture, you are consistently so open to my suggestions. Seeing you discover the finer things this life has to offer brings back what I felt when I experienced them for the first time.”

“I do what I can.” Will says, pleased and flattered. He wraps his arms around Hannibal from behind, nipping at an earlobe as he draws the older man close.

“I will remind you that we have limited hot water.” Hannibal says, stepping away to rinse off. “I believe we have had enough cold-water bathing for one lifetime.”

You know the deal by now, my lovelies. Vote your hearts out. Polls end late Thursday the 17th–I’ll have a short ficlet with the winners up by Saturday morning. (It’s likely to be a wee bit longer.) And remember, write ins will be PUNISHED.

Will’s eyes dart between the roast goose and suckling pig. He has no doubt they are exactly what they appear to be. One of the joys of their relationship is that Hannibal has no need to disguise what, or who, they are eating. “Two roasts? I thought I said I’d provide the meat. You really overdid it with the tree, the Christmas Eve dinner, the gifts. The least I could do was give you the night off.”

“Nothing like this.” Will apologizes, eyes darting over the larder. “One of my dad’s friends used to go hunting. He taught me how to make this venison chili. Do you remember John?”

“From a few months ago at the orchards? Yes. He kept asking if my ‘brother’ and I needed any help.” Hannibal says.

“Well, I suppose we can say he was in season.” Will says.

Hannibal smiles as a silence settles in. Will approaches his lover. Picturesque as ever, a single tear glistens in the corner of the older man’s eye. No sooner has Will rested a comforting hand on than Hannibal has grasped it, pulling him close. “Never be ashamed of your cooking, love. You brought for the table a dish prepared with care, a meat you yourself hunted and dressed. Especially for a meal such as this, the gift of your past and the care you put in it is far more appropriate than my roasts.”

Will wraps his arms around Hannibal. Relief and pride swirl through him in equal measure, twisting and weaving through a wave of affection. “Thank you.” He mumbles into the embrace, savoring the contact. Several moments pass before he speaks again “Can we hold off on cuddling until after dinner? I’m starving.”

“Certainly.” Hannibal hold him tighter for a moment before reluctantly letting him go. “I can put away the roasts while you fetch the chili. The scalloped potatoes and yorkshire pudding will be an interesting offset, but what is Christmas is not a blending of traditions?”

Oh. And Devil’s Food Cake for dessert.

Due to our write-ins requesting torture porn, there will be no torture porn. As PUNISHMENT.

Welcome to the (belated) 2015 Canadagraphs Polls Of The Hannibal Advent! Or, uh, something like that. Your nominations are in, and it’s time to start the voting. This week’s theme is Christmas dinner. What do Will and Hannibal eat? Who cooks? Vote, and remember: write-ins will be PUNISHED.